


Living The Green Life

by LunarHermit



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Attempted Disassociation, But No OFC Pairing, Eventual Pairings, F/F, F/M, Gen, Humor, I Was Bored And This Is Fun, Isekai, M/M, OFC Gets Sucked Into Fire Emblem, OFC Insert, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Possible Unintentional Crack, Spoilers for DLC, and maybe violence, rated for language, spoilers for all routes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23358565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarHermit/pseuds/LunarHermit
Summary: Waking up in a fantasy world sounds like a blast, right? Meet some of your favorite characters, have some adventures, maybe learn some magic?Yeah, I thought so too.Then I woke up as a green-haired munchkin about to be sold to some shady dude by a trio of smelly bandits.At least it can only get better from here on out, right?...Right?Please tell me I'm right.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 43





	1. Forest Hobo Drug Addicts

**Author's Note:**

> So I occasionally enjoy reading these kinds of stories, and while I was working on Time Crackers and a not-yet posted story, this idea came to me. I think I'd been awake for about 20-some hours at that point? It seemed like a good way to whittle away at my writer's block, and before I knew it I had enough written down to post a chapter or two. I have only a vague idea where I'll be taking this, but... well it's fun to write so who knows?
> 
> This will eventually have pairings, and I'll tag them and the characters as they show up.
> 
> Warnings: Potty Mouths; My first attempt at first person POV; 95% chance this eventually has F!Byleth/Rhea content

**+0+0+0+**

My journey to consciousness was as slow as it was painful, and as painful as it was confusing.

The first thing I became aware of in my struggle to open my eyes was that sometime while I wasn’t paying attention, the mother of all migraines had decided to take up residence in my head without so much as a by-your-leave. And like all annoying, unwanted tenants it was doing its damn hardest to be the best nuisance it could be. 

Now I’m not exactly a stranger to migraines, but the throbbing pain was so intense that I wouldn’t be surprised if I had slipped and cracked my skull open on a patch of ice sometime in the immediate past. At least it would explain the memory loss.

Which brought me to my second point of concern; the all-important question of just what, for the love of all that is good and smothered in maple syrup, did I do to warrant such pain? Seriously, did I kick a bag of puppies and forget about it? Because _holy-crap-on-a-stick_ being in this amount of pain isn’t normal.

I try to think back, but it’s hard – the memories, blurry and disjointed, come slowly as if I’m trying to scoop them out of molasses with a fishing net. 

The last thing I remember is…

I think…

Was I at work?

I don’t know. Maybe?

Fuck it hurts to think. Can a person sprain their brain? I think I sprained my brain.

A muddled thought flits through the molasses, and I’m suddenly filled with dread.

What if I _died_? 

What if that’s why I can’t remember where I am or what happened? What if I died and my memories are slowly fading away, my soul being put through the afterlife’s version of a rinse-and-spin cycle before I’m reborn as a blade of grass or a stick-bug or a _chihuahua_?

Or…

 _Oh God_.

What If I died at work and my punishment for being a useless human being is that I can never leave?! I don’t want to spend the rest of eternity haunting-

Oh, wait – hold that thought.

Hello stomach; nice to feel you again. Could you stop with the nausea? I feel like I’m about to puke my internal organs out all over my lap like a sea cucumber - and isn’t that a lovely visual?

After careful consideration - if careful means beating back my anxiety with a metaphorical stick - I conclude that I’m probably still alive, because being dead probably doesn’t come with this much intense pain and gut-roiling nausea. 

Probably.

It’s a working theory, which is more than I had a moment ago so I’m rolling with it.

Now let’s see here; time for another try at being a human and not a limp noodle.

Head? Mother of all migraines. Check.

Stomach? Nausea. Check.

Eyes… still won’t open, we’ll come back to that.

Fingers and toes? No- oh, wait a minute. Pretty sure that was a twitch, so I’m going to go ahead and put that down in the yes column.

Ears? …I think I hear something, but that could just be the pounding in my head. Or could be actual noise that is exasperating the pounding in my head. I’m just going to go ahead and mark that one as inconclusive.

Well. After careful deliberation with Me, Myself, and I, we have come to some concerning conclusions.

Theory One – I’m dying. We don’t really like this theory so we’re just going to go ahead and use the sane response of complete denial.

Theory Two – I got completely wasted and am now paying the high price of being on a major bender. While this option is highly unlikely, we like it better than The-Theory-That-We-Shan’t-Speak-Of.

Theory Three – I slipped on the ice at work and am now in a coma. This one is… worryingly plausible, partially due to my chronic klutziness, but personally I’d like to point out that it’s not my fault that the asshole management doesn’t regularly salt the driveway. I’d like to see a normal person walk across that icy obstacle course from hell without falling on _their_ ass.

That’s it. That’s all I can think of.

And, since I’m human, I’m going to deny the worst theories to my dying breath and go with option number two.

…I really hope nobody took any embarrassing videos. The last time I was drunk was over two years ago and my little sister, who was my DD at the time, took vicious delight in recording me for a solid hour and then playing it the next morning.

On repeat.

With commentary.

Some things should never be spoken of - let alone witnessed - in the light of day whilst stone-cold sober.

I-

**“-think it’s wakin’ up, Butch.”**

Fuck. 

Ow. 

My ears just popped and _goddamn_ everything is loud and ringing and just feeding the headache from hell and-

**“Wha’d’ya mean it’s wakin’ up? Well knock it back out, you moron!”**

My eyes crack open and I think I’m crying because everything hurts and everything’s blurry and all I can focus on is the _pain_ -

I hear more than feel a sharp crack, which is funny – but not haha funny – because my world literally _explodes_ for a split second before I fade into blissful nothingness.

**+0+0+0+**

I wake up faster this time, though I’m still in a shitton of pain. My head hurts even more now - which I honestly didn’t think was possible - and the nausea is still pretty bad. But on the bright side, my thoughts feel less like they were dipped in molasses and smothered in cotton balls. And I can wiggle my fingers even if I can’t move my arms, so that’s a definite improvement.

I take a few minutes to just breathe slowly and it helps, I think. Passed the rushing of blood in my ears, I’m able to hear the occasional shuffling sound made by fabric brushing against something, and a faint pop and crack that sounds familiar, but I just can’t place at the moment.

Steeling myself, I take another measured breath and crack my eyes open slowly only to slam them shut not a second later. After ten more inhales and exhales, I try again and manage a bit better this time. Eyes half-lidded, I slowly try to blink away the blurriness until my surroundings start to come into focus.

Okay, step one is staying calm. Step two is pretending I’m a normal person that doesn’t occasionally suffer from crippling anxiety. Step three is definitely not panicking and bursting into uncontrollable tears.

Repeating those three steps in my mind like a mantra, I let my gaze slowly drift around and take in my surroundings as much as I can without moving my head.

It’s dark out. I’m in what appears to be a forest, sitting propped up against what is most likely a tree. There is a campfire – hello crackly noise, I knew I recognized you - but it’s far enough away that my feet are barely visible in the darkness and I can’t feel any heat. I strain my eyes as I take in the silhouette of my bare feet and push back the incessant thought that something about them looks weird as I manage to wiggle my toes.

I’m in a fucking forest in the middle of nowhere with no memory of how I got here, of course everything seems weird-

No.

I close my eyes and breathe.

Disassociate. Observe. Be clinical, not emotional.

When I’m fairly certain I have my emotions under as much control as I’m likely to get at the moment, I continue my covert appraisal.

Making sure not to look directly at the fire, I instead take in the objects around it and the obvious signs that wherever I am, I’m not alone. 

A dented old-timey iron pan. A large pair of shabby boots. Two large packs sitting within arms reach of two worryingly human-sized piles of fur that shift occasionally as if they’re _breathing_.

I try to focus on my own breathing again but despite my best efforts my eyes start to flick around faster.

There’s a crude looking arrow sticking out of that tree over there. On the other side of the clearing I can just make out the large shape of what might just be an honest to god horse. Because of course that makes sense, it’s not like I live in the city or anything.

My anxiety is banging at the door to my mind, screaming shrilly that I’ve been kidnapped by a roving band of forest hobo drug addicts who stole somebody’s horse and decided, in their drug addled minds, to LARP some sort of wild west situation except this was real life and holy fuck I’ve been kidnapped.

Have you ever had an anxiety attack, and it just keeps building and building until _woops_ , you reach your emotional limit and then just feel sort of numb?

I didn’t even jump when a third hobo drug addict came out of nowhere and stared down at me silently. I just blinked at him. The guy – and he was definitely a guy – was huge, towering over my seated position like Hagrid over the first years, and looking just as scraggly. The lighting was poor this far from the fire and his back was to the light, but I could see that he was sporting a thick bushy black beard – or some equally dark color – and his nose was too big for his face. Or anyone’s face, really. That honker was _huge_.

There were dark lines that I figure might probably be scars but couldn’t tell for certain. All in all, it looked like he was whacked with the ugly stick one too many times as a child and never really recovered.

“Hello.”

Oh, wow. Was that hoarse whisper really me? That was kind of pathetic. 

Hobo Drug Addict Number Three didn’t answer, or even acknowledge my attempt at speech. Which – okay, _rude_ \- but I could barely hear me so I guess I can give him the benefit of the doubt.

Before I could open my mouth again, Hobo Drug – fuck it I’m going to call him Beardo – thrust what looked suspiciously like a wineskin at me. And grunted.

I eyed the proffered sack of liquid for a long moment before gazing back up in the vague direction of his shrouded eyes.

“No thanks, I’m good,” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. 

Which was a boldfaced lie. My throat is like extra coarse sandpaper and I think my saliva forgot how to saliva, but I’m not stupid. Despite how much I would love some liquid to soothe my pain, Beardo was definitely a stranger and my momma didn’t raise no fool. 

Also, that spout was definitely not sanitary. And growing up with a little sister taught me that backwash is definitely a thing to be worried about. 

Beardo either didn’t hear my refusal or didn’t care, because he just insistently thrust the spout closer to my face. And grunted again.

“I really don’t wa-,”

My second attempt at refusal was summarily cut off and overruled when Beardo took matters into his own hands and squirted a generous amount of definitely-not-water into my open mouth. Between coughing and choking, I unfortunately ended up swallowing quite a bit despite my best attempts at the contrary. The liquid was lukewarm, bitter, and left an aftertaste akin to sucking on a sweaty gym sock soaked in lemon juice.

While I was trying valiantly not to drown, Beardo grunted in what was probably sadistic satisfaction and wandered away.

Fuck you too, Beardo. Fuck you too.

I could feel my thoughts slowing again as my head began to swim. The constant throbbing of my migraine lessening a smidge was a happy side effect, sure, but the vague knowledge that I had just been drugged managed to keep me from sighing in relief.

My last thought was that I had to stay strong. 

Because as much as I hate my job, becoming Hobo Drug Addict Number Four is _not_ on my to-do list.

And I will tell that straight to Beardo’s big nose. 

Maybe.

A yawn split my face, and my eyes blinked slowly one after the other.

Maybe instead I’ll ask Beardo what he dosed me with because holy crud-buckets that was oddly fast acting and I’ve never really had the best of luck with sleep-aids.

…

…

I think I might… take a little nap first though.

**+0+0+0+**

It’s been three days – or at least three days that I’ve been conscious for – and I think I have a better grasp of the situation I’m in. I mean, _okay_ , so I spent the entirety of Day One swearing up and down the forest that I was actually in a hospital bed tripping on morphine or some other pain medication and that everything I was experiencing was one big drug-induced hallucination.

I even rationalized the fact that I was tied to a tree away as medical restraints.

That didn’t really go over well with Butch and Clyde – that’s what Hobo Drug Addicts One and Two called each other, no joke – and one of them actually threw their boot at my head when they got tired of telling me to shut up. At the subsequent explosion of pain and the worrying prospect that I might have a broken nose, I was forced to re-evaluate my entire hypothesis.

So, I spent Day Two back to my original theory that I was snatched by weird LARPing kidnappers. Who were hobos that lived in a forest. And kept liquid drugs in their gross wineskins. Not to mention the lack of hygiene – holy crud did I ever lament the return of my olfactory senses every time the wind shifted in my direction.

Butch and Clyde were loud, obviously lacked a standard education, and kept referring to me as ‘It’. You know, your garden-variety asshole, tripping druggie edition. They kept mentioning someone called Boss – very original, I know – and how they were going to sell me to some shady dude who was apparently some sort of mysterious mole-person who was also very powerful and could teleport. And that was why It – meaning me – had to be undamaged before they handed me over or they’d be turned into frogs or hit with lightning or both. 

The punishment varied in intensity and credulousness, but those two were the most recurring.

At least, that was what I got from trying to follow one of their conversations. To be honest, I came away from that experience feeling even more confused than before I started eavesdropping. The only thing I was certain of was that those drugs they were taking apparently came with some _really flipping trippy_ hallucinations.

Hound – that’s what the others called Beardo – was even uglier than I first pictured. Despite this, he was also the one I minded the least. Though bigger and just as smelly and uneducated as the other two, I’m pretty sure he had the excuse of being genuinely mentally challenged. He was rough and gruff and grunted all of five words since I met him - but having worked with people with similar difficulties, I could tell that he lacked the same sense of greed and malice that the other two all but radiated.

While Butch and Clyde whined about having to wait for me to heal from the head-wound _they_ had caused and plotted what they were going to do with their share of the money they’d get for selling me, Hound actually attempted to take care of me. He fed me hard bread crusts, made me drink the drug-laced water every few hours, checked my head every morning and night, and brought me to pee in a bush.

…

So maybe he treated me like a pet, but at least he wasn’t _mean_ about it.

Which brings me to Day Three. 

I didn’t think my situation could get any worse. I didn’t think I could be more miserable than I already was. I was wrong.

Oh, was I ever wrong.

It rained during the night. Like, a lot. The fire went out and everything, and Butch and Clyde cursed up a storm as they rednecked some sort of tarp over the makeshift camp a little too late to save anything from getting utterly soaked.

The tree I was tied to didn’t do that great a job at being an umbrella, to be honest. I normally like the rain, find it soothing - but in that moment all I could do was brood and give Murphy a silent _fuck-you_ because it was really just the icing on the goddamn cake at that point.

So, there I was. Tied to a tree in a rainstorm, in the middle of nowhere, with my three kidnappers. I was injured, hungry, soaked, caked in mud and finally starting to feel the cold. 

But none of that’s what finally broke me, no.

There was this dip in the ground - maybe it was caused by the tree roots, I don’t know. But it collected the rainwater pretty well, and it was close enough that I could see most of my reflection.

Or at least what should have been my reflection.

I just… I thought I had been kidnapped by abnormally tall people, okay? And I was never the tallest to begin with. And- and with how much Butch and Clyde ranted and raved, I figured there was a hallucinogenic compound to the drug water which is how I rationalized away the little things I had noticed over the passed three days.

But my reflection…

Okay, so I’m a little on the short side, maybe a little overweight. Plain features, short brown hair, brown eyes. I had just turned twenty-six not too long ago and was very clearly an adult. All in all, just your average Caucasian female, nothing special - but at least I was _me_ , you know?

That’s not what was currently staring back at me through the raindrops.

The first thing I noticed was the eyes - which considering everything else is kind of odd, but when you’re used to muddy brown staring back at you it’s kind of a jolt to suddenly see a light green so vibrant that they’re practically glowing.

I blinked just to see if the reflection would too… then realized how dumb that really was.

My eyes drifted to the reflection’s hair next. Her _really long_ and _really green_ hair was a few shades darker than her eyes, two details which were both _really very wrong_. Though the hair was currently wet and matted - and was that _blood_? Yes, that was _definitely_ blood caked into the strands on one side of her head, though it looks like most of it had already rinsed out - so the color would probably be around the same shade as her eyes when dry.

I swallowed thickly and tore my eyes away to continue my inspection.

The um, the face was very youthful. Like, _really_ youthful. And a little chubby – but not _chubby_ chubby, you know? More like a youthful chubby. Because she was really very… youthful.

I blinked rapidly and stared at her nose next. It was a cute nose. Definitely not broken. Not too big. Didn’t protrude out of her head like it was trying to shout at the world to look and stare. Nope. Just a normal sized nose for her normal sized youthful face.

It was with the sense of not being able to pull your eyes away from a train going off the rails that I finally looked up at the most obviously wrong part of the reflection. The little girl – because who was I kidding, there’s youthful and then there’s _this_ – had two very large ears. Ears that protruded sideways from her head far more than was even close to normal. And did I mention that they ended in a point? Because they did. 

They. Fucking. _Did_.

I can’t deny it anymore. I’ve played Fire Emblem one too many times to _not_ make the association. What I’ve got on my hands here is a puddle that insists on showing me a vision of a young and bedraggled, yet still very obvious, Tiki.

…Oh my God.

My reflection is a Tiki. I mean a kid. A Kid Tiki.

Like some sort of special event summon from Fire Emblem Heroes.

…And now Kid Tiki looks like she’s hyperventilating.

Don’t worry Kid Tiki, we can hyperventilate together in solidarity. 

Just what in the actual hell is in those drugs?

Because I’m done.

I want to wake up now.

Because this was too strange to be reality.

Because this was one _fucked up_ dream.

Because I didn’t want to be tired and injured, alone and scared, hungry and lost.

Because this reality sucked, and as the days passed it became harder and harder to rationalize all of this away.

Because whoever that was in my reflection - _it wasn’t me_.

Because I was a grown-ass woman and wasn’t ashamed to admit that I wanted my mommy, and my grandma, and my sister. And my nephew. My god; _my nephew_. He just turned two for fucks sake and now he won’t even recognize me anymore. Hell, I barely look older than he does! I look like a – like a fucking _kindergartner_ , all cherubic and innocent and _fuck_.

I mean Kid Tiki. _Kid Tiki_ looks like a kindergartner.

I managed to move my feet just enough to slosh some clumps of mud into the puddle. The water rippled, the image of Kid Tiki distorting and for one split second I thought I saw brown hair and brown eyes.

It was with a discomfiting sinking feeling that my hopes were dashed. The water settled except for the occasional ripple caused by a raindrop. A pit opened wide in my stomach.

Green eyes stared back at me. 

It’s funny, but with the rain and everything, it looked like Kid Tiki was crying.

I blinked through the wetness, my vision blurring even as the rain slowed to a trickle, then a barely-there mist.

Hound heard Kid Tiki crying and came over to give me more drug water. I guess the noise disturbed him or something.

I didn’t argue this time and for once took a big swig of the disgusting liquid without complaint. 

I didn’t want to hear her crying either.

I just wanted to go to sleep, wake up, and just… be home.

I just wanted to go home.

**+0+0+0+**

Everything felt unreal, but at the same time super clear. I felt strung out emotionally, and through the numbness I felt an odd sense of peace creeping in. Is this what acceptance feels like? I’ve already run through the gamut of denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, so it must be.

Huh.

It’s not a bad feeling, per se, but I’m not entirely sure that it’s an appropriate one either. I mean, feeling acceptance while tied to a tree in the middle of nowhere while your dirty kidnappers argue over the burnt husk of a squirrel probably isn’t the best response, but I guess it beats sobbing like a baby.

Not to point fingers, but Kid Tiki is kind of a crybaby, if I’m being honest. 

Like, as soon as I woke up from my drug-induced nap I was subjected to her annoying wailing. I think I might have allergies though, because I kept sniffling and my face feels all splotchy and phlegmy. My only consolation is that my kidnappers finally realized that the more they injured me to shut up Kid Tiki, the longer I would take to heal, and the longer it would take for them to get their money. 

The bastards whined almost as much as Kid Tiki before quitting the camp altogether to get some peace and quiet. Only Hound stayed within earshot, but at least the camp managed to air out a bit without their filthy odours constantly making my nose-hairs cringe.

I stubbornly persist in ignoring the thick locks of green that have been obstructing half of my view for the better part of a day. Kid Tiki should learn to control her hair better because that wasn’t _my_ hair and I still wasn’t ready to touch that issue with a ten-foot pole. Nope. No siree. One emotional rollercoaster while under duress had nicely filled my quota for the year, thank you very much.

Oh look, here comes Hound with my daily ration of hard bread crusts topped with a garnish of mold.

If only I had the option of actually refusing.

If I could see Kid Tiki right now, I bet you anything that her pale skin would be just as green as her eyes and hair.

What I wouldn’t give for a hamburger right now. Or some chicken.

Mmm.

Chicken.

The moldy bread tastes even worse than usual, and not for the first time I wish that my taste buds would just hurry up and _die_.

**+0+0+0+**

It’s Day… Four? No wait, Day Four was spent listening to Kid Tiki cry her heart out, then Day Five I spent in blissful silence and emotional numbness. So… Day Six? Yeah, let’s go with Day Six.

The pain is almost completely gone, which is both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because – yay, no more pain. 

But that also meant that the hour of my doom was soon approaching. I heard Butch and Clyde discussing what supplies they’d need to acquire before we left to meet up with Boss, and that we’d be leaving in two days tops.

Which left me in somewhat of a dilemma, because I didn’t want to be sold to some unknown creep mole-person who may or may not be able to teleport and shoot lightning out of his eyeballs. 

Shocker, I know.

So, to that effect, I was trying to come up with a plan of escape now that I felt better. Well, excluding the weakness I felt due to the gnawing hunger and constant lethargy that clung to me due to being in a regularly drugged haze. Not to mention the tumultuous tangle of emotions I had unceremoniously shoved in a box and buried in the back of my mind.

But besides that, I was feeling better than I had all week, so it was time to escape.

Unfortunately, my current plan was all of two steps long and – I’m not going to lie – was lacking in a few details. 

My plan was thus:

Step One – Escape

Step Two – Don’t get caught

…Okay, so maybe it was lacking most of the details. Fine, okay, _all of the details_. But it was a start, and really - having goals was important for a healthy psyche. I just needed to visualize it. Be one with my goals. Really, _truly_ , believe it, you know - and just do it.

Just do it.

…

I mean, there was always tomorrow. No need to rush things and make a stupid amateur mistake. Yeah, maybe an opportunity would present itself tomorrow.

…

Yeah.

…

**+0+0+0+**

Kid Tiki’s ears twitched as a faint gurgling sound reached me, and seconds later an unfamiliar yet oddly pleasant aroma cut through the stench of unwashed bodies and caused my mouth to salivate. I opened my eyes just in time to see Butch fall limply to the ground beside a sleeping Clyde, which was odd because from the look of the sun it was at least midday. His mouth was wide open, and it looked like he had been messily eating some red berries because there was red liquid trailing down his chin. It just kept gushing out in thick rivulets and-

Oh.

_Oh._

That… that wasn’t berry juice.

A snapping twig caused my eyes to dart wildly to the side, where a literal giant was coming straight at me.

I was out of time.

A monster had found our camp, and I was the bow-tied sacrifice.

**+0+0+0+**


	2. The Giant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I meet a giant, butcher the plot of a cartoon, and make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters may be a bit OOC until I get the hang of writing them again, and I'm working on the whole tense thing, but man is this ever fun.

**+0+0+0+**

“Hey, easy there Squirt. I’m not going to hurt you or anything, but I need to get closer to untie ya,” The Giant said in what was probably meant to be a reassuring tone but sounded anything but, his empty hands held up in front of him in a symbol of peace. 

The seemingly harmless gesture was immediately ruined by the blood still trickling down his knuckles, but I don’t think he realized.

I eyed The Giant warily, my shrill scream having trailed off a few minutes ago when all he did was stand just out of kicking distance, his hunched shoulders and uncertain shifting from foot to foot just screaming _awkward_.

Now, Hound towered over me – but I’m pretty sure this guy towered over even him. He was _huge_. And had _all_ of the muscles – like, _all of them_.

I could tell, because his white trench coat was wide open, and he wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. White pants, black boots, and a purple belt rounded off his outfit, with a few splashes of grey here and there.

Oh, and the chains. Can’t forget the chains, which, as far as I could tell, weren’t actually used for anything. Bold fashion statement, that.

The Giant chanced a small step closer at my continued silence and my eyes immediately narrowed, causing him to falter.

I may have also growled.

It was pretty impressive, if I do say so myself. Much more impressive than my earlier scream.

His unarmed hands shot up even further, as if that made up for the fact that he had just _killed everyone else in camp_ with his _bare hands_. “I’m not going to hurt ya, promise,” he tried to wheedle. “Wouldn’t you like some help to get out of here?”

I…

Well, yes, of course I wanted to fucking leave. But did I trust this guy? No, no I did not. I mean, what’s to say he wasn’t this Boss character, and he was just cutting out the competition for the money he’d get for selling me off? I could see it now; I would trust him and willingly yet unknowingly follow him straight to my doom - and wouldn’t that just be fucking perfect.

Butch, Clyde, and Hound may have been assholes, but the most they had done was almost give me brain damage. This guy had killed three grown and armed men like it was nothing, with his _bare fucking hands_.

“C’mon kid, I don’t,” The Giant sighed, one of his hands rising up to run through his short messy black hair in exasperation. “I don’t got all day, but I can’t just leave you tied to a tree. For one thing, it’s something even I wouldn’t be able to live with, and for another, Hapi would probably sigh up a storm if she found out.”

Okay, so first of all, who the fuck was Happy? Was I in some weird gender-bent version of the Enchanted Forest? Was there a Grumpy and a Doc too? I thought this was supposed to be Fire Emblem.

Second of all…

Well, he had a point. I didn’t want to be stuck tied to a tree in a camp full of dead bodies. I could literally taste freedom, and I wasn’t about to lose my best chance. I was willing to gamble, even if past events indicated that Lady Luck was out to get me.

I dipped my head slightly, but my eyes never strayed from their wary inspection.

He sighed in relief and began to inch closer cautiously. “Just don’t bite me or anything, okay Squirt? I’ll have to get close to undo the knot.”

I bared my teeth in what might be considered a smile… if you were blind and stupid.

Fun fact – Kid Tiki had really sharp teeth.

I found _that_ out the hard way; I have this nervous habit of chewing on my bottom lip, except Kid Tiki apparently has razor blades instead of teeth.

Fun times.

He eyed my smile for a long moment before slowly crouching down at my side, careful not to make any sudden movements. I tried to hold in a wince as he began fiddling with the tight knots, the rough rope rubbing harshly against my already raw wrists, but I think he noticed because the sudden tension slacked off.

“Fuck, sorry. These things are pretty tight, I might be able to untie them but it’ll probably hurt even more.” He paused for a second. “They’d come off easier if I just cut them.”

Yeah, fuck, whatever. 

In for a penny and all that.

I nodded and immediately after heard the faint sound of a blade being drawn. I felt cold metal against my wrists and a split second of pain before the rope was falling limply to the ground and I was scurrying away from him on all fours.

Deeming enough distance put between the two of us for the moment, I brought my hands up before me for the first time in a week and winced at the expected sight of raw and bloody skin around my wrists. I carefully ran my hands and wrists through a series of motions, relieved when I had no trouble moving them beyond the ever-present ache of extreme rope burn.

“So, uh, where are ya from, Squirt?” The Giant asked as he sheathed his boot dagger. He was still crouched down and hadn’t moved any closer, as if I were a scared animal and he was trying to seem small and harmless.

How cute.

I sniffed in annoyance.

The constant allusions to Kid Tiki’s apparent age were getting real old, real fast – I was twenty-six and only slightly under average in height, thank you very much.

I stood up a little too fast and ended up wobbling slightly before finding my balance. Cautiously I started to stretch, sighing in relief when no further discomfort followed.

“You hear me, Squirt?” He tried again.

I huffed in annoyance and gave him the stink-eye, finally deigning to grace him with actual words. “My name isn’t _Squirt_.”

My cheeks immediately flushed as his brows shot up. _Goddammit_ , Kid Tiki. Why do you have to sound like such a squeaker toy?

“So she does speak,” He barked out a laugh before grinning playfully, finally rising from his crouched position. “What’s your name, then, if it isn’t _Squirt_ , Squirt?”

My cheeks puffed out as I glared at his smug face.

“It’s K-,”

I snapped my mouth closed, my cheeks flushing a darker red when I realized that I was just about to introduce myself as Kid Tiki.

That title must never be allowed to escape my lips. Ever. I would never live that down.

I opened my mouth again only to pause. I… couldn’t really give my real name. I mean, I guess I could, but it felt intrinsically _wrong_ to do so. I was going through a spot of identity crisis at the moment, and it didn’t feel right to label my current meat-suit with my actual name when the visuals were so jarringly different.

…I didn’t want to give up the last piece of what made me, well, _me_ \- and tacking it on to Kid Tiki’s appearance felt a little too much like _accepting_ Kid Tiki’s appearance.

It was much better to continue dissociating, and what better way than with a completely different name for the meat-suit I was currently occupying?

“Ti-,”

But wait, what if there was already a Tiki running around? I didn’t want to get smited – smote? - for a case of Divine Dragon identity theft. No matter how innocent I was in this matter.

“Well? Cat got your tongue?” The Giant chuckled at my attempted glare. 

_Rude_.

So, I decided to be the adult in this situation and did the mature thing. 

With all the gravitas a literal munchkin could muster, I crossed my arms and looked at him challengingly, my squeaky voice dripping with sugary smugness. “I’m not supposed to talk to strange weirdos I meet in the forest.”

So maybe I was paraphrasing a tiny bit, but Stranger Danger was honestly a thing. And his reaction was priceless, so, you know, point for me. 

Hey, I had to distract myself _somehow_ as I could literally feel the dark cloud of anxiety and depression just chomping at the bit for me to slip up and let it out.

Nobody wanted to deal with Crybaby Kid Tiki at the moment.

_Nobody_.

“Strange weir-,” The Giant huffed, looking and sounding affronted. It made him look less threatening, somehow, and my tense stance relaxed a bit. “Hey, _Squirt_ , don’t forget that this strange weirdo just saved you from bandits. Kids these days, I tell ya…”

My arms uncrossed and fell to my sides, the fingers of one hand tapping absently against my thigh in thought.

That _was_ true.

Maybe he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

I’d still be keeping my guard up, though. I still wasn’t _entirely_ convinced that his actions were altogether altruistic. 

I could probably bite him, maybe, as a last resort to get away - but I wasn’t deluded enough to even think for a second that he wouldn’t totally own me in a fight without even batting an eye…

And in his defence, he had tried to cater to my skittishness, and he hadn’t bull-rushed me either, so…

Mind made up, I nodded to myself, my fingers stilling. “Who’re you?”

“Thought you weren’t supposed to talk to strangers,” The Giant parroted back.

Okay, who was the one currently stuck in a munchkin meat-suit? Real mature, Giant.

I held back the urge to stick out my tongue at him, and instead settled for rolling my eyes and sighing in exasperation for having to spell this out for he who was supposed to be grown-ass adult. I was trying to give us an out while still saving face, get with the program here.

“If I know who you are, you aren’t a stranger anymore.” I managed to keep from speaking slowly and exaggeratingly but couldn’t help but tack on one last word at the end, “ _Duh_.”

Kid logic for the win.

“I don’t think that’s how it-,” He started as he eyed me dubiously.

I cut him off, stared him straight in the eye, and stressed my words. “ _If I know who you are, you aren’t a stranger anymore_.”

There was silence for a minute before he let out a great guffaw, his hand actually slapping his thigh in emphasis. When he spoke, it was with a silly grin on his face. “Y’know what, kid? I think I like you. You’ve got spunk.”

I blinked slowly, expression expectant.

“You have the great honor of being saved by the one and only King of Grappling,” He gestured at himself like a preening peacock, as if I should be in abject awe.

Well.

That was kind of a pretentious title, wasn’t it? Though he had just killed three guys with his fists like it was nothing – a fact I would have to unpack and hyperventilate over later.

Huh.

I squinted at him in thought. You know, now that I think about it, something about him is tugging at my memory, but I can’t put my finger on it…

I don’t remember anyone like him in Awakening or Fates, so maybe he was a one-off character?

Unless this is one of the earlier games.

Oh God, please don’t be one of the earlier games. I haven’t played any of them and the illusion of knowing what I’m in store for in this fucked-up situation I’ve found myself in is the only thing keeping me sane at the moment.

“Is that, like, an actual title? Do people actually call you that? I mean, do you have a job in wrestling or something, or do you just like getting into bar fights?” I asked dubiously, trying to fish for a little more information.

“Well, I mean- I’m sure it’ll catch on eventually,” The self-proclaimed King of Grappling defended almost sheepishly after an awkward pause. “I’m actually sort of a student at the moment, I guess you could say.”

“Oh yeah?” My brow cocked. “Student of a fighting school?”

“You could say that,” He hedged, before switching tracks and continuing defensively. “Look Squirt, we’re getting off track here, but I guess my title might be a bit of a mouthful for everyday use, so you can just call me Balthus.”

Balthus, huh?

Balthus. _Balthus_. Balthussss.

Why did that sound so familiar?!

“Oh, well I wasn’t going to call you The King of Grappling anyways, and I guess Balthus is better than The Giant,” I tilted my head in thought. “Still kind of a mouthful, though, so I’m just gonna call you Balto.”

Oddly enough, he seemed to physically wilt at my words.

“What’s with all these wimpy nicknames? Is Balthus really so hard to say?” I heard him mutter to himself almost gloomily. “Bee, Baltie, that one girl wouldn’t stop calling me Boo…”

I ignored him.

Baaalthus. Balthuuuuus.

Oh man, this was really bugging me. It was on the tip of my tongue, I swear.

“Well then If you can give me a nickname, I’ll just keep calling you Squirt.” He stated, shaking off his sudden funk and interrupting my brainstorming in the process.

“Name’s Tika; use it or I’ll bite you,” I replied absently, a thoughtful frown on my face.

Well I mean, it _wasn’t_ , but it was close enough to Tiki that I would remember it. And it came with the added benefit of not stealing someone else’s identity, which meant not getting smote, so…

Win-win.

He laughed at my threat. “Well aren’t you just a ball of sunshine? Maybe I should call you Sunny instead?”

“Bite your face off,” I mumble distractedly.

Balth-

Oh!

“Wolves!” I blurted out excitedly. “You’re a Wolf!”

He was one of the Ashen Wolves! 

_That’s_ why he was so familiar!

…Wasn’t he supposed to have a giant war-axe?

I had only played though Cindered Shadows once, but now that I thought about it, he was _definitely_ that one teddy-bear of a guy that Hilda had wrapped around her little finger. So, this was Three Houses, huh? I hadn’t even included it as an option, the whole Kid Tiki thing having thrown me way off the mark.

I mean, I guess my meat-suit could pass for Nabatean.

Considering the setting, it probably was Nabatean – or at least a descendant. No, wait - the ears. Definitely full-blooded Nabatean.

But how was I supposed to know that? The resemblance to Tiki really was too uncanny to ignore.

I honestly felt so relieved; his familiarity was really bugging me; you have no idea.

“Wolves?” Balthus asked, voice suddenly losing all traces of humor. “What about Wolves?”

I blinked and looked up at him in surprise.

“Wolves…?”

Oh wait.

Shit. 

This did seem kind of suspicious, didn’t it?

I mean, I was in a non-assuming munchkin meat-suit, but the guy had like a bajillion debts and bounties on his head, didn’t he? I can see how a guy in such a situation might be wary of a trap. And I was perfectly bait-sized.

…And I just blurted out something that I really had no business knowing.

Go me.

He uh, he didn’t look like much of a teddy-bear at the moment.

He took a step forward. 

It looked very threatening.

I felt very threatened.

I paled.

“Balto!” I blurted out, eyes wide. “He uh, was a wolf. Like – have you never heard the story?”

Balthus’ eyes narrowed slightly, but he stopped moving forward. His voice resumed its loud yet joyful tone. “Can’t say that I’ve heard that one. Maybe you should tell it to me.”

It _sounded_ like a suggestion.

But it really, _really_ , wasn’t.

“Balto was this baddass wolf that wanted to be accepted by this town and be a sled dog.” I babbled. “He fell in love with this really pretty dog, see, but he was shunned ‘cause he was different – being a wolf and not a dog. But like a lot of things happened and he ended up saving lives and everyone was like ‘Oh, Balto, you’re so awesome – sorry we were such assholes’ and he got a statue made of him in the town square and got the girl. The end.”

I mean, that’s vaguely what happened.

Was there a bird in the story somewhere? I feel like there was a bird.

…It’s been a while since I’ve watched the cartoon, okay?

I held my breath even as I blinked innocently up at him.

It took a minute for him to digest my word-vomit, but as his posture subtly relaxed, I finally started to breathe again.

“Heh, maybe not such a wimpy nickname then.” He paused and eyed me with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve got quite the mouth on ya for such a squirt, anyone ever tell ya that?”

And now I was back to growling, but this time he just laughed.

Fucker.

“I’m twenty-six,” I grumbled moodily under my breath.

“Kid, _I’m_ twenty-six,” Balthus snorted. “You look, what, five? Six at the most?”

You know what? Fuck it. He was back to looking like a teddy-bear and I was emotionally compromised.

I bared my teeth in another pseudo-smile. “Yeah? Well you look like the perfect height for me to punch you in the balls.”

Balthus just laughed, a wide grin sliding home across his face. “You kiss your momma with that mouth, kid?”

And all of a sudden, my smile plummeted as fast as my mood at the jarring reminder. I tilted my head downwards so Kid Tiki’s long hair covered my face.

Props to the big guy though, it didn’t take him long to realize he had fucked up.

“Oh shit– I didn’t mean-,” Balthus sputtered awkwardly.

I sniffled.

Stupid allergies.

“Fuck, are you-? No, I’m sorry, don’t – fuck, you’re crying, aren’t you?” Balthus stepped forward, his voice rising in panic. 

“M’not crying,” I mumbled, rubbing my fists against my eyes. They were hot and prickly – but that was because of the allergies, okay? It was only allergies. “S’allergies.”

“Yeah, sure it is, Squirt. Tika. Look,” Balthus sighed in frustration and knelt in front of me. “Look, where are you from kid? I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

A loud sob tore itself from my chest, breaking the silence of the forest.

Great, who let Crybaby Kid Tiki out of her cage? She was _so_ annoying and took _forever_ to shut up.

I wiped some snot on my dirty sleeve. It mixed with the dried mud and smudged across my cheek in a slimy brown mess.

God, Crybaby Kid Tiki was _so_ disgusting.

“C’mon kid, work with me here,” Balthus pleaded. His hands hovered awkwardly between us, as if he wanted to comfort me but didn’t know how.

Wow, the dude sounded pretty pathetic. And like, he was being very sweet and offering to take me home safe – even if he wasn’t aware just how impossible that really was. Guess I should probably throw him a bone.

“C-can’t go h-home,” I hiccupped, blinking rapidly as I stared at him through a matted curtain of green. A hysteric little laugh escaped my throat before I could continue. “W-when you don’t ha-have one.”

Because all roads lead to Rome _unless you were on another fucking planet_. 

Universe. 

Reality. 

Whatever.

Poor Balto, he looked pretty funny with his mouth flapping open and closed like that. Like a big muscly fish.

“I-I want my Mommy,” I continued, eyes shining. “B-but I’ll ne-never see h-her again.”

“I-,” He started.

“An-and, you just ki-killed everyone su-super d-dead,” My breathing sped up, Kid Tiki’s sobs getting louder and more hysterical. “There a-are _dead b-bodies_ right _the-there_.”

Balthus followed my shaking finger with his eyes, even if he knew exactly which dead bodies I was referring to. His face paled a bit and he started stumbling over his words. “I- they were bandits, weren’t they? You were tied to a tree-,”

I ignored him because my control had snapped, and the floodgates were open.

“And y-you’re Balthus!” I pointed at him accusingly, my voice reaching decibels I hadn’t been able to for years. 

Because this whole situation was _impossible_. _I_ was impossible. 

_He. Was. Impossible._

But did the universe care? No, it did-fucking- _not_.

“You can call me Balto!” Balthus assured me frantically. “You can – really, I don’t mind! Just stop-,”

“And d-don’t get me star-started on th-these… _things_!” I gestured pointedly at Kid Tiki’s ears, only to realize it wasn’t _just_ the ears. So, I moved my hands and gestured vaguely at my whole meat-suit.

“Tika-,”

“I just – I want my _home_.” I sniffled disgustingly, voice quieting as I lowered my gaze and stared at the ground. “I want to be _me_.”

I don’t know how long we stood there in that clearing, the sound of Crybaby Kid Tiki’s quiet sobs the only noise to break the silence that had settled between us. I’m guessing it was a while, because by the time Balthus moved to speak again, Kid Tiki’s crying had lessened to subdued sniffles.

“Tika,” Balthus broke the silence.

I didn’t acknowledge him, too busy drowning in my woes, but a large hand landing gently on my head caused me to sniffle and glance up from the dirt.

His brown eyes were solemn, and he had a small sad smile on his face. “I can’t – I can’t give ya back exactly what ya lost. But I can take ya to a place you can call home, if you’d like. One where you can be whoever you are without nobody telling ya otherwise.”

“What,” I sniffled. Was he really-? “What do you mean?”

“The place I’m staying at, Abyss – it’s for folks like us. Folks with no other place to go, or who can’t be themselves without everybody else spitting on them.” Balthus tried to ruffle my hair, but the mess of green was so matted and tangled that he quickly started patting my head instead. “Maybe it will end up being your new home. Maybe it won’t be. But it can at least be a safe haven for a while, and you’ll never be turned away. You’d be free to be you.”

Free to be me? I wish.

Still, Balto was offering to bring me with him instead of just leaving me in the forest or dumping me in the nearest village.

I had a real choice here. Abyss was under Garreg Mach, and Garreg Mach was basically the center of everything that would take place in Fódlan.

Did I want to get caught up in the war?

I mean, I’m shit-terrified at the prospect, but I kind of want to meet some of my favorite characters since I’m already down shit-creek without a paddle. And I really should find out if it’s my Byleth we’re dealing with here - you know, in case it isn’t, and I’d be better off hiding at the bottom of the ocean for a few hundred years with Indech.

Conversely, I could say fuck no and go live somewhere far away.

…Which wasn’t a real option while Kid Tiki was such a dead-ringer for a Nabatean. Fuck.

So really, it came down to what scared me more.

Garreg Mach came with war, possible death and/or capture by the Empire, and whatever Rhea’s reaction might be.

Anywhere else came with Those-Who-Slithered nabbing me, experiments, and certain death.

…

Welp, that’s a no-brainer. Guess I’m going to Garreg Mach.

“Okay.” My voice came out quiet and raw.

“Okay?” Balthus repeated, head cocked to the side.

“Okay.” I nodded my head decisively, voice louder and firm.

The hand on my head gave me one last pat before Balthus stood up. “Okay then. Let’s go home.”

**+0+0+0+**


	3. Sheep, Cloak, Barrel, Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title - Obligatory Travel Montage

**+0+0+0+**

So, it turns out that the Hobo Drug Addicts’ campsite wasn’t actually that far from the monastery. Which, y’know, was pretty bold of them. 

…

Actually, scratch that- those bandits weren’t smart enough to be bold - their poor decision-making _had_ to be due to simple stupidity.

I mean, the Knights of Seiros had to be patrolling the surrounding areas at least semi-regularly, right? Neither Rhea nor Seteth seemed like the type to suffer fools lightly, so even without Jeralt at the helm, the Knights were undoubtedly a pretty competent bunch. It only took us the better part of a day to get through the forest walking at a steady pace, and when we finally broke the treeline Garreg Mach was right there staring me smack dab in the face. 

That was _pretty damn close_ to the local authorities to be causing trouble, at least in my opinion.

Okay, so maybe when I say _we_ , I really mean _Balto_. Because after less than an hour we were both fed up with Kid Tiki’s tiny munchkin legs and I ended up getting a piggy-back ride. Which may or may not have ended up with me snoozing for most of the trip, but I blame the drugs that were more likely than not still coursing through my system.

It wasn’t like I needed to take a _nap_ or anything. I’m not a _baby_. Just, you know, drugged.

…Oh man, I was so not looking forward to going into withdrawal.

I mean, caffeine withdrawal was brutal, so I can only imagine-

Wait. 

Focus. 

Garreg Mach.

Garreg Mach was _fucking huge_.

Like, you can kind of tell from that one cinematic of Byleth and company breaking through the treeline that it’s a pretty big place, right? You think it would’ve given you a sort of scale for just how huge it really was, _right_?

Let me just tell you that I was not prepared. Like, at all.

So, to start with - Garreg Mach Monastery sits at the top of a mountain. But it’s like a huge fucking mountain range - not a little piddly one like I first imagined - so the fact that it looked enormous even from this far away?

Yeah. 

Mind. Blown.

From the base of the mountain stretching all the way to the treeline were fields and farmland. All that space between the farms and the monastery at the top? That was the village.

 _Village_.

I’m pretty sure that much village should qualify as a city- but hey, what do I know.

No wonder Garreg Mach was able to call itself a neutral territory; it was wholly self-sufficient.

Rhea really thought that one through. 

I was totally impressed.

I kind of really wanted to shake her hand, and be all like, ‘you do good work’. Then nod decisively. 

That would be epic.

Like, I’m not saying that I _wouldn’t_ wash my hand afterwards.

I’m just not _not_ saying that I wouldn’t wash my hand afterwards.

“Pretty incredible sight, isn’t it?” Balthus said before hefting me further up his back when my slackening grip started to slip, snapping me out of my internal gushing.

Is that a note of wistfulness I detect there, dear Balto? 

Using his shoulders as a handhold, I pulled myself up, my feet digging into his back before sliding down on either side of his neck. Crossing my arms on top of his messy hair, I used them as a headrest.

“That the Abyss place?” I asked innocently. Had to keep up my mask of ignorance; I did not want another ‘Wolves’ situation. Mean teddy-bear was _scary_. “It’s pretty big. We going all the way to the top? ‘Cause if we are, I have to say- I’m gonna be so sore by the time we get there.”

“Yeah? Pretty sure I’m the one doing all the walking here, Squirt,” Balthus said dryly.

“Don’t call me that,” I complained, poking him in the cheek when he chuckled. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re like the opposite of squishy. Its like sitting on a rock. That moves. And don’t even get me _started_ on your laugh.”

“What’s wrong with my laugh?” Balthus asked in offended confusion.

“Have you ever tried to ride a rock in a landslide?” I snorted. “It’s like that. Only worse, because rocks don’t tell terrible jokes.”

I shit you not. 

Balto's jokes really are _that_ bad.

I mean, I’m pretty sure Seteth cracks less groan-worthy jokes, and his repertoire probably consists of really corny dad jokes that only he and Flayn laugh at.

…

Holy shit I was totally teaching Flayn every corny fish joke I knew. 

We could be fishing buddies, cracking jokes over our fishing lines.

She was the type of genuine cinnamon roll that would absolutely love them, and I would in turn love to see Seteth cringe at every single one.

He would _have_ to listen to every corny fish joke I knew if Flayn was the one saying them.

 _Ohmygod_. The puns. I was so going to teach her _all of the fish puns_.

…

Should I feel bad that I was basically plotting to use the innocent Flayn to annoy her father?

…

Nah.

She can keep the fish we catch as payment. 

Everybody wins.

Except Seteth.

Wait. 

_Puns_.

I _need_ to be friends with Alois. I can already imagine the shitton of terrible puns we would subject Garreg Mach to, and it is _glorious_.

Cue maniacal laughter. But, y’know, internally. Can’t have anyone thinking Kid Tiki is a nutjob – at least not while I’m the one piloting this meat-suit. Too much suspicion would make it harder to-

“Hey now,” Balthus huffed. “My jokes are great. You’re just too young to really appreciate them.”

I blinked, snapping out of my diabolical fantasies.

“ _Twenty-six_ ,” I sing-songed.

“You still on about that? Why don’t ya pull the other one, Squirt.” Balthus snorted.

Shrugging, I reached down with a shit-eating grin - still riding on the high of my gloriously evil future plans - and tugged at his ear. “Like this?”

“Ow- hey, stop that,” Balthus tried to pull his head away, but I was glomped around it like a stubborn koala.

“Only if you stop calling me Squirt,” I demanded imperiously, yanking his ear even harder. “Because I can seriously do this all day.”

“Squirt-,” 

“ _All day_ ,” I emphasized.

“Fine, fine- You win! I’ll stop calling you Squirt,” Balthus huffed, before adding under his breath. “Ya little brat.”

I decided to be magnanimous and pretend I didn’t hear that last part.

Letting go of his ear, I hummed smugly and patted him on the head. “Glad we understand each other, Balto.”

“Let’s see how much we understand each other when its _me_ pulling _your_ ears,” Balthus muttered.

Now _that_ I could not ignore. Kid Tiki’s ears were horribly sensitive, which really sucked because they were such obvious targets.

Stupid ears.

“I see any fingers anywhere near my head and I’m gonna start biting first and asking questions later,” I warned. “These teeth aren’t just for show, y’know.”

I clacked my teeth in emphasis.

“Vicious little thing, aren’t you Sunny?” Balthus snorted. “Can’t wait for you to meet the others. Something tells me you’ll fit right in.”

I groaned at the new nickname and bopped him on the head as he let out a booming laugh, thus making my perch shake uncomfortably.

One step forward, two steps back.

**+0+0+0+**

“Stop!” I yelped suddenly, causing my ride to stumble.

“What? What is it?” Balthus tensed up, looking around swiftly. “Bandits? Knights? _Bounty hunters_?”

I blinked, confused for a moment on how exactly I was supposed to recognize a bounty hunter on sight – somehow I highly doubted that they were all running around looking like medieval Boba Fett cosplayers - before shaking my head rapidly.

“What? No.” I grabbed his head and tried to turn it in the right direction. “Stop moving your head and look over there. You see that?”

Balthus let me direct his head and was silent for a moment. “…I don’t see anything, Sunny. You sure you didn’t nod off again?”

“First of all- that was _one_ time,” I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “Second- how do you not see that? It’s a fucking green field! Anything not green sticks out like a sore thumb.”

“All I see are little white dots,” Balthus said after another minute of intense scrutiny.

“Those white dots are sheep, Balto,” I intoned in my best no-nonsense voice. “We must go.”

“Go?” Balthus questioned, confused.

“Yes,” I nodded, deathly serious. “To pet the sheep.”

Balthus snorted, choking on a laugh. “Yeah, sure we do.”

“No- you don’t understand.” I wiggled around until my feet were balancing on his shoulders, then leaned forward and dipped my head to look him in the eye. “I _need_ to pet those sheep.”

“We-,”

I grabbed him by the cheeks and smooshed his face. “I. _Need_. To pet. The sheep.”

“We’re not-,”

“Balto, have you ever touched a sheep?” I interrupted. “They are big fluffy cotton balls pretending to be animals. I’ve had a hell of a week and need fluff-therapy, _yesterday_.”

I don’t know why he was being so obtuse. I’m certain I was being perfectly clear.

“No.” Balthus grunted.

“’No’ you haven’t touched one?” I asked aghast. This poor unfortunate soul had no idea what he was missing!

“ _No_.” Balthus stressed, “We aren’t going all the way over to that field just so you can pet a sheep.”

“But-but,” I gasped, eyes wide. “ _Cotton balls_ , Balto. Cotton balls!”

“It’ll add at least a half-day’s travel,” Balthus stated dismissively. “And rescuing you already put me behind schedule. I need to get back.”

I was quiet for a long moment as I thought about that, before nodding. I guess if he was already late, it couldn’t be helped.

“Okay, I understand,” I patted him on the head. “Hey, can you let me down?”

He reached up to grab me around the waist and started to lower me down only to pause when we were about eye-level with each other.

I blinked at him innocently. “Yes?”

“Why do you want to be put down?” He asked in sudden suspicion, eyes narrowed. “You _threatened_ me to get up in the first place.”

“Uh…” I wiggled a bit, but he held fast. Puffing a lock of green out of my face, I muttered. “…sheep.”

“What was that, Sunny?” Balthus asked in an obnoxiously loud tone, shaking me slightly. “Didn’t quite hear you.”

I winced, then whined. I tried to stomp my foot – but that doesn’t really work when you’re being held in the air. 

Finally, I grumbled. “I was gonna go pet the sheep.”

“Yeah, thought so,” Balthus sighed and rolled his eyes.

“But the sheep are calling me! _Ti-ka, Ti-ka_ ,” I bleated cajolingly, though he didn’t seem moved. “Look, you don’t have to come-,”

“Nope.” Balthus shook his head.

“So you’ll let me down?!” I squeaked, eyes shooting wide in excitement.

Balthus shifted me until he was holding me under one arm. “Nope.”

I groaned and tried to kick him in frustration but couldn’t reach anything with Kid Tiki’s tiny legs. 

I stopped and glared at the ground, then eyed his arm speculatively. It _might_ just be close enough…

“You’re too quiet.” Balthus warned suddenly. “If ya even _think_ about biting me-,”

“I totally wasn’t!” I complained.

He snorted.

“You are the worst.” I declared loudly with a pout.

“ _The worst_.” I repeated. Because it warranted repeating.

“Yeah, yeah- but hey, I know how much ya love my jokes, so I’ve got another one-,”

Struggling yielded no results, and so I groaned loudly and yanked at Kid Tiki’s tangled mane in frustration.

Maybe if I pulled hard enough, and I was _really_ lucky, I’d give myself brain damage again.

**+0+0+0+**

“No.” I crossed my arms and shook my head stubbornly.

“Sunny-,” Balthus groaned.

“ _No_.” I stomped my foot and growled, glaring up at him.

“Look, this is the fastest way-,”

“You didn’t say anything about having to go through the village!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms up in the air in emphasis. “You said it was underground! Let’s go find a hole or a tunnel or a- or a secret door so I can speak friend and enter!”

“It _is_ underground, but to get to the closest tunnel entrance we need to skirt through the village.” Balthus rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “Like I’ve said twice already.”

“Balto- Balto look at me,” I said through gritted teeth. “Like, _really_ look at me. Do I _look_ like the kind of person who can just stroll through town without everyone and their dog gossiping about that big ruffian and his adorable but _unique-looking_ companion? Do you _want_ to draw attention to us?”

I was in no hurry to be kidnapped again, thank-you-very-much. Who knew how many plants those slithery fucks had – well, _slithering_ around Garreg Mach.

“It’s… It’s getting darker, I’m sure nobody will notice,” Balthus said, his once exasperated tone turning doubtful as he finally stopped grumbling and started to eye me up and down speculatively.

I smelled blood and was going in for the kill.

“Balto,” I stared up at him in all seriousness, hands on my hips. “Balto look at the ears. Look at the ears and tell me we’re getting through without at least one person noticing. You said something earlier about bounty hunters?”

He was silent for a long minute.

“…I’ll go snatch you a cloak.”

I plopped down into the tall grass and sprawled out, perfectly camouflaged as a clump of moss, before giving him a lazy thumbs-up. “Try to get one from the _clean_ laundry pile, yeah?”

**+0+0+0+**

Pretty much the only issue I didn’t have with the cloak Balto came back with was the color. I mean, if I’m being honest it didn’t have the best dye job – it was visibly darker in some spots than others – but at least it wasn’t pink. I know Tiki rocks the whole pink-and-red color combo, so _theoretically_ it wouldn’t look _horrible_ on me - but I’ve never really been one of those girly girls who wear pink like its going out of style.

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t _hate_ the color.

I just wouldn’t choose to willingly wear it over literally any other color.

So, with that in mind, slate grey wasn’t a terrible choice - and since the guy who picked it out wore chains across his bare chest as a fashion statement, I think I dodged a bullet there.

And hey- the splotches sort of made it look like dark clouds if you tilted your head and squinted, so when I thought about it like that it was actually pretty cool.

So, what I’m trying to say, is that it _could_ be worse.

…Just not much worse.

Wool on a sheep? Soft. Like digging your hands into a bag of cotton candy.

Wool spun into a cloak? Itches like fucking crazy.

I feel like I have _fleas_.

Oh god, I really hope the cloak doesn’t have fleas. 

Or lice.

Bedbugs.

…I suddenly felt very paranoid about my new living standards.

Actually, let’s just stop thinking about that before I get so depressed and freaked out that I start crying. 

Again.

So. The cloak. 

It was _huge_!

Not even _close_ to being munchkin sized. I mean, yeah, sure, it covered me completely…

…As well as about two feet of dirt behind me.

I could probably hide a whole ‘nother Kid Tiki in here.

Maybe even adult Tiki, too.

Hell, we could fit a whole fucking _luau_ in this itchy monstrosity.

But wait- that’s not even the _worst_ part of the cloak.

What can be worse you ask?

“Balto. Balto I thought we agreed to grab a cloak from the clean laundry pile,” I whined, holding the hood closed with one hand, the other fisted into the end of Balto’s coat so I didn’t get lost. “Not the _burn-it-burn-it-now_ pile.”

“It’s not that bad, Sunny,” Balthus groaned long-sufferingly. “Pickings were slim and we’re in a rush. You’ll just have to deal with it while we’re in public.”

“Did you pick a cloak based on how much it smelled like rotting potatoes?” I gagged, having accidentally breathed through my sensitive nose. “Because if you did, I’ve gotta give you props for a job well done. This one is _definitely_ a winner.”

Silence.

“Balto?” I asked.

No answer.

Well then.

I think he was ignoring me.

…We’ll see about that.

I tugged on his coat and dug my heels into the dirt until he groaned and stopped, looking down at me in exasperation.

“Pick me up.” I demanded. “My feet are dead.”

They actually weren’t. Even barefoot, Kid Tiki had some pretty tough soles.

“What do good little girls and boys say?” Balthus finally broke his silence with a taunt, brow raised.

Oh.

 _Oooh_.

So, he wanted to _play_ , did he?

I was an adult in a munchkin meat-suit. I could outplay him with my eyes closed and two hands tied behind my back.

My eyes flashed, a smile splitting my face even as I had to remind myself once again to breathe through my mouth. Thus, Kid Tiki’s squeaker-toy of a voice came out rather nasally when I threatened, “Pick me up or I’ll scream.”

He opened his mouth.

A trio of giggling teenage girls walked out of a store down the street from us, wearing what looked suspiciously like the Officer’s Academy uniform. A rather young-looking guy sporting Knights of Seiros armor exited right behind them, a veritable mountain of bags in his hands.

I raised my eyebrow pointedly and opened _my_ mouth.

Balto sighed and picked me up.

Feeling extremely smug, I wrapped one of my arms around his neck, making sure the bunched-up material of the cloak sleeve settled directly below his nose.

He gagged.

“It’s not that bad, Balto,” I mocked. “Pickings were slim, you know. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

“This what it’s like to have a little sister?” Balthus muttered under his breath before gagging again. “Holst never mentioned _this_ when he’d be gushing about Little Hilda.”

My triumphant grin was hidden deep within the recesses of the baggy hood.

When she wasn’t annoying everyone in a ten-mile radius with her screeching wails?

Kid Tiki was _such_ a little shit.

**+0+0+0+**

I don’t know what I was expecting, honestly, but my first impression of Abyss was that it was… a hole in the ground.

I mean, I know it’s basically a shady underground labyrinthine town populated by the dregs of society but…

Well, okay, so let’s take it step by step.

We wandered around the village at a sedate pace for a while, going in a general upwards direction. When dusk started to set in and the streets were mostly empty, Balto took us down a series of backroads and side alleys – at one point we even had to sidle sideways between two buildings, his muscular physique just barely squeezing through the gap.

I, of course, had no trouble getting through.

Nobody was there to witness me tripping over my cloak, and so by law it _did not happen_.

Ahem.

Finally, just as the light had faded to a point where our surroundings were leached of most color and everything was starting to take on a grey hue, we came to a stop at a dead end.

No seriously- it was the dingy, dead end of an alley. There was a fuckton of useless and broken trash piled up in the corners, sure, but I didn’t see any exits other than the way we came.

Now, I’m going to be honest - at that point I was getting a little cranky. I had been slowly developing a headache from the stench of rotten potatoes wafting up from my pilfered cloak and was ready for a meal, a bath, a change of clothes, and a bed. And not necessarily in that order.

I was just about to complain that he’d gotten us turned around and was just too stubborn to admit it, when Balto walked behind a large, weathered-looking barrel.

And disappeared.

My first reaction was to stand there and blink stupidly, mouth agape, for an embarrassingly long minute.

My second went along the lines of blurting out, “Holy shit is that barrel a _mimic_?”

Balthus’ voice echoed throughout the alley. “You coming, Sunny?”

I jumped and looked around in shock before once again eyeing the barrel, this time in suspicion. “That depends-,”

“What now?” Balthus sighed, and it sounded like the barrel was hissing at me menacingly.

“On whether I’m talking to Balto, or the barrel that just ate him.” I finished as if he hadn’t interrupted.

Were mimics a thing in Fire Emblem? I couldn’t remember if they were a thing - but did I really want to take that chance?

“What? Are you kidding-,” He scoffed. “The barrel didn’t eat me.” 

“Yeah,” I scoffed back. “That’s _exactly_ what a man-eating barrel would say.”

“I don’t even… Just…” A sigh. “Just get down here before someone sees ya, kid.”

I looked around the empty alley with a sceptical expression before turning back to the barrel.

“Fine,” I said mulishly after a moment of consideration. “But if I die here, I’m haunting your ass. You will hear ghostly bleating for the rest of your miserable life, this I do solemnly swear.”

I slowly skirted around the barrel, only to find that the side closest to the wall was broken. Peering warily inside, I looked down and blinked.

The barrel was sitting on top of a hole in the ground, and staring up at me from said hole was Balthus, arms crossed and brow raised.

Huh.

So maybe it wasn’t a mimic.

…Well how was I supposed to know that it was just your everyday piece of trash camouflaging a secret entrance, and _not_ a man-eating monster in disguise?

Sniffing imperiously, I hopped into the hole and landed next to Balto, totally sticking the landing. The fact that my cloak billowed up around me and caused us both to devolve into coughing fits from the copious amounts of dust that became airborne as a result was one hundred percent _not_ my fault.

It was definitely the cloaks fault - and since Balto was the one who gave me the cloak, it’s my firm opinion that he was the one truly at fault here. 

Not like I was pointing fingers or anything.

…But if I _was_ then I’d totally be pointing them at Balto.

**+0+0+0+**

My second impression of Abyss was just as unfavorable.

Abyss was dark.

I know, I know – what was I expecting of an underground city. Of _course_ it was going to be dark.

But you know what? The game didn’t show that.

Sure, it was darker than when you were running around the courtyard or whatever, but the game made it seem like they had a plethora of artificial light sources just laying about. Candles, torches, fucking big-ass chandeliers - the game wasn’t lacking in light sources. Even the first tunnel you go down at the beginning of the DLC makes it seem like its lighter than it should be.

But guess what?

We’ve been walking single file down this tunnel for what feels like hours now, and is there any light anywhere to be seen? Anywhere at all?

No. 

It’s fucking dark.

Like, really, _really_ dark.

So dark that Kid Tiki’s better-than-human eyesight can’t see Balto’s back even though I’m so close that I keep bumping into him with every other step.

Because the tunnel is _dark_ and _damp_ and _cloying_ and there’s no fucking way I’m going to risk losing him, not when I distinctly remember the game mentioning secret passages and the fact that they seem to move around like some sort of freaky Hogwarts bullshit.

And oh god the _sounds_.

Besides the faint shuffle of our feet and occasional audible inhale or exhale, there’s this oppressive blanket of silence that just completely surrounds us.

Except, every once in a while, I’ll hear a faint noise. 

A hiss, a clang, an echo, a _groan_.

Kid Tiki’s ears have started twitching like crazy and my traitorous mind is only too happy to fill in what might be making those far-off sounds that I can’t _not_ hear.

…

Is now a bad time to admit that I’m a wussy baby when it comes to everything horror?

Because I am totally a wussy baby when it comes to _anything_ horror.

Even accidentally catching a glimpse of a horror movie commercial has me sleeping with my lights on for a solid week. And that’s if I can get to sleep at all.

So this whole creepy tunnel of doom we’re walking down is seriously wigging me out.

I honestly wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.

“Hey, uh, Balto?” I asked, my voice echoing around us creepily. I cringed and tried to walk a little closer. “I uh, kind of thought we’d have a torch or something to see by. Are we almost there?” 

“There’s better lighting when we get closer to the actual town and living areas. Can’t keep torches too close to the entrances or people might start snooping.” Balthus replied just as I walked into him again. “If you’re scared of the dark, I can carry you. We’re passed the smallest part of the tunnel and its not like you weigh much.”

“I’m not afraid of the dark!” I exclaimed in offense.

I wasn’t.

…I was just afraid of what might be _lurking_ in the dark.

Another faint groan made my ears twitch and my heart triple in speed, my eyes shooting wide. 

Swallowing my whine, I tugged on Balto’s coat. “But, you know, if _you’re_ afraid of the dark,” I started, tone casual. “I guess I can let you carry me. For, like, emotional support or whatever.”

I could hear him snort, but to his credit he bent down and picked me up without complaint. Once more on his back, I buried my head in the back of his coat and took slow deep breaths. I don’t know how long we stayed like that in silence, me clinging onto him while trying to think bright and happy thoughts, but eventually a thought popped into my mind that made me frown.

“Hey Balthus?” I asked softly into the dark.

“You still awake, Sunny?” Balthus asked in surprise, his head turning slightly as if to look back at me.

“I just wanted to say thanks,” I continued quietly, somberly. “I just realized that I never actually thanked you and wanted you to know that I really do appreciate it.”

“For carrying you?” Balthus asked quizzically.

“For everything.” I murmured. 

Balthus was quiet for a moment before he finally chuckled quietly. “You’re welcome, Tika.”

I hid a small smile in the back of his coat, my eyes closing once more.

It may not have been the happy thoughts I was trying to focus on - but honestly in that moment? 

I felt lighter.

**+0+0+0+**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was me basically saying to myself that I didn't want to start with 'It took us a while to reach Abyss'. So instead you get over 4k words of Tika and Balthus building a rapport, and a little more insight into Tika. Next chapter we'll arrive into Abyss proper and meet the rest of the Ashen Wolves. I only have time to write when I'm working, and since I also have to actually work and some days are busier than others, I might not get around to posting again for a week or two.
> 
> That being said, I have a question if anyone wants to bother answering. Personally I prefer longer chapters, but I'd like to know whether you'd prefer shorter 1k-3k chapters, or longer 4k+ (keeping in mind a shorter chapter doesn't necessarily mean a faster update). Also my plan for this story is very bare-bones and mutable, so if anyone has any suggestions or scenarios I'd be willing to listen - I can't promise I'll actually use it, but sometimes a prompt is a nice way to get over a stubborn lump.


	4. Wolf Packs and Bathtubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meetings can be weird.

**+0+0+0+**

I awoke abruptly to a scene straight out of The Lion King - except Balthus was Rafiki, I was baby Simba, and the audience of mismatched animals were three strangers staring at me like _I_ was the weird one.

“Wha,” I slurred tiredly in confusion as I hung limply in the air, my oversized cloak just barely brushing the floor far below me. “Wha’s go’n on…”

“This here is Sunny,” Balthus declared way too happily for my groggy mind, shaking me slightly in emphasis. My head flopped back and forth like a bobble-head, and I couldn’t help but whine pitifully in response. 

Balthus cheerily continued to speak as if he hadn’t just given me whiplash. “I found her in the woods, and she decided to follow me home.”

The girl before me with shoulder-length purple hair sighed and shook her head, a hand held to her forehead in what could only be an acute case of exasperation. “Balthus, please tell me you didn’t just abduct someone’s kid.”

Holy shit.

“Holy shit.” I blinked. Then blinked again. 

Nope. 

It _still_ looked like a purple-haired girl – but it sure didn’t _sound_ like one. 

“What a surprise. B’s already been a bad influence.” The girl with the red hair stated with an air of disinterest.

Oh, good - that one actually sounded like a girl!

…Though her blank tone and bored expression made me think that she could probably murder puppies without batting an eye.

_Very_ creepy.

“Balthus!” The last girl, a blond, spoke up loudly with a scandalized expression on her face. “Teaching such vulgar words to a child is far beyond simply appalling – it is utterly unacceptable!” 

Another one that sounds like she looks, which meant that I probably wasn’t hearing things like I first assumed. I was pretty concerned there for a minute - like, I was worried that I was actually stuck in a dream, or that Kid Tiki’s antenna-ears were tuned into the wrong radio station, or something. 

But everything’s fine.

Pretty Purple is the odd duck this time, not me.

Good to know.

“What? Hey, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” Balthus defended immediately, pulling me in closer as if I were a shield. “I saved her from some bandits, and she had nowhere to go – Hapi brings strays home all the time!”

“Yeah - animals, not humans,” Red – Hapi? – deadpanned, before staring at me for an uncomfortably long minute. “Still, if she was being held captive…”

“Those assholes were going to sell me to a magic mole-person so that he could run experiments on me,” I decided to pitch in helpfully. Though my words did come out in a tired mumble interspersed with yawns, so to be honest I’m not sure how much of that they actually understood. I would have rather conserved energy and stayed silent, but by this point I figured I owed Balto a solid or two. “Balto killed them dead with his _bare hands_.”

Huh. Guess I _stil_ l wasn’t over that. The fact that I was being held up by those very hands was a thought that I neatly packed right back up into its box and buried in the back of my mind because ignorance truly is bliss when you are anxiety's whipping girl.

Oh wow, Hapi's expression actually twitched a bit there, before settling into something resembling approval.

I mean, I know she’s showing approval at the fact that Balto killed someone, but…

Okay, so no matter how I spin it, it’s still kind of creepy. 

…But I’ll consider it a win anyways.

“While I’ll admit that your intentions might be noble if that is truly the case,” Constance – because I’m finally just this side of awake enough to realize who these strangers most likely are – frowned, accusation plain in her voice. “It still does not excuse your bad habits from corrupting such an impressionable young mind.”

I don’t think I like how she keeps referring to me as a child.

I mean sure, my Kid Tiki meat-suit is munchkin shaped, and if it were me in her position I’d totally be doing the same thing. Experience has taught me that kids are like part ninja, part stubborn sponge – you never know when they’re listening, and they never forget the things you wish they would. 

But I’m not in _her_ shoes, I’m in _Kid Tiki’s_ non-existent shoes. And _that_ means that I’m totally justified in not liking it.

Especially since I was older than her. She was what? Seventeen? Eighteen at the most? Whatever. The point was, she was almost half my age and I was feeling pretty annoyed and more than a little condescended right now.

“Take it easy, will ya? Kid’s already threatened to punch me in the balls for no good reason, and right after I rescued her too,” Balthus complained. “If anything, she was already corrupted before I got there.”

“Street kids do pick up all manner of habits,” Yuri tilted his head as he eyed me speculatively. I, in turn, eyed his eyeshadow speculatively – it was a very pretty shade of purple. “Propriety and decorum have no place when you’re doing everything you can to survive.”

I’m definitely not a street kid by any stretch of the imagination, but I totally get what he’s saying.

The internet is a strange and horrifying place, and nobody escapes its clutches unscathed and unchanged.

_Nobody_.

But that’s neither here nor there because at the moment I’m tired and cranky and getting _really_ sick of just hanging here like a ragdoll. And I _will_ be voicing my grievances at such an uncomfortable and undignified position.

Soon.

But first, I have _priorities_.

“It’s _Tika_ ,” I stressed, wanting to nip this nickname thing in the bud before it spread. Nicknames were like yawns – dangerously contagious. “Not Sunny. _Tika_.” And then, because I decided that I liked Balto enough to grace him with a warning, “Balto, put me down or so help me I _will_ bite you.”

“See? Sunny’s a vicious little thing all on her own,” Balthus, instead of doing the sane thing and putting the angry munchkin down, thrust me out proudly once more like he was in front of the class and I was his object for show-and-tell. “I had nothing to do with it.”

I growled, but I think the intended effect was kind of ruined by the fact that I was still dangling comically in midair. Or at least I assume it was comical from their perspective – because it sure as shit wasn’t from mine.

The only reaction really worth noting was the slightly impressed look Hapi shot my way, and it left me feeling kind of indecisive. On the one hand, it was the complete opposite of what I was going for – but on the other hand, Kid Tiki’s growls _were_ rather impressive for such a pint-sized body and it was kind of nice for them to be recognized as such.

In the end - and after about ten seconds of intense deliberation - I decided the best course of action was to simply cross my arms and grumble incoherent obscenities under my breath while pouting.

When in doubt, pout.

I am one hundred percent convinced that Kid Tiki could go very far in life by following that simple philosophy. 

In fact, as of right that second it was my new motto. My very own Hakuna Matata, if you will - since I’m pretty sure having no worries in this predicament I’ve found myself in would be a very quick way to end up super dead.

I mean, what am I likely to be facing in the future? War, people trying to kill me, war, people trying to capture me, war, people wanting to experiment on me, and did I mention war? Because - and I’m going to be completely honest here - I don’t deal very well with conflict.

Like, at all.

So, yeah. 

Super dead.

I don’t know if there is an afterlife, either back home or here in Fódlan. I mean, sure, it _would_ be cool if I could just go chill with Sothis without the possibility of future pain and death hanging over my head – but I was in no hurry whatsoever to find out for sure.

It’s kind of ironic when I think about it, what with where and when I’ve ended up, but I’ve never really been what you would call a religious person. I honestly think the only times I’ve even set foot in a church in the past five years were for weddings and funerals. 

And yet here I was. 

Not only was I currently underneath the main branch of – in Jeralt’s words – a ridiculously large religious organisation, but I was also stuck piloting the body of what might just be one of their goddess’ close descendants, her literal flesh and blood. I highly doubt Kid Tiki would be Sothis’ kid – what with her having been murdered by Nemesis forever ago and this body looking so young – but a grandkid? If Kid Tiki was actually Nabatean, I could totally see it.

…

I just had the very sudden and very strong urge to call Sothis _Grandma_. 

Y’know, for shits and giggles.

I’m really hating the fact that I won’t be able to see or hear her, because can you just imagine the look on her face? She doesn’t remember who she is, so to have a random kid that legit looks like her calling her Grandma would be _priceless_. Maybe if I just talk to the air in Byleth’s room? I wouldn’t be able to see her reaction, but just the knowledge that she could hear me would be totally epic.

She was usually in that one corner in the game, right?

…

No, that would tip my hand a little too much for comfort.

…

I was very, very tempted to go ahead with it anyways.

Maybe while Byleth wasn’t there? No, that’s stupid – I’m assuming that Sothis has to stick close enough to her Crest Stone or she’d probably disappear or something. I mean, if she didn’t go poof she could just go spy on people and let Byleth know what was going on. It would literally be a game-changer, since I distinctly remember the both of them being confused during more than one scene. 

A little covert information gathering would have fixed that issue right up.

…

Wait, I got sidetracked, didn’t I? Where was I…

Oh, right.

Street kid I was not, but Yuri did have a point earlier – I’d do pretty much anything to survive, even if my chances of survival seemed pretty slim when all I had was myself to rely on. Call me selfish if you will, but I was kind of completely averse to dying. 

I mean, I may _look_ like a Manakete-slash-Nabatean at the moment, but on the inside? I was totally still a human. And what is a human besides a blight upon whatever planet they end up on?

Selfish.

Oh, we try to dress it up with flowery words, try to say that we’d do this or never do that - but when it comes down to it the vast majority of humans would prioritize themselves over literally everything else without a second thought. It’s just in our nature. I’m simply self-aware enough to just shrug and admit it.

Most humans are terrible and selfish beings - it’s why I didn’t like them for the most part.

Balto was pretty okay, though. He carried me around and fed me jerky and didn’t get mad at me when Kid Tiki was being a brat. Bad jokes aside, I kind of liked the guy.

I think I might have been a little too caught up in my thoughts, though, because the next thing I knew my hood was being pulled back and Kid Tiki’s ears and hair were literally popping out.

I blinked rapidly, too surprised at the moment to be nervous as three sets of eyes stared back at me in shock.

“Balthus,” Yuri spoke slowly, the first one to find his voice. His tone was light and conversational, but his pretty face was completely emotionless. “ _Please_ tell me that you didn’t abduct one of the _Archbishop’s_ relatives.”

“What? No!” Balthus immediately denied, before pausing. “Wait, does she even have any relatives? I never heard anything about her having any family while I was at the Academy.” He turned me just enough so that I was looking at him. “You’re not related to Rhea, right? You said you didn’t have any family left.”

Hell if I know, Balto. 

I mean, I know that _I’m_ definitely not related to Rhea. This body though? If Kid Tiki actually is a Nabatean, then technically she _is_ related. Which is… kind of cool, to be honest. Rhea’s one of my favorite characters. And that would mean that she’s related to Flayn and Seteth too, which is basically icing on the cheesecake.

…I think this might be the first time I’ve actually been somewhat _jealous_ of Kid Tiki.

I wasn’t going to say _that_ out loud, though.

“I don’t have a family anymore,” I tried to say plainly, but my bottom lip started quivering without my consent. Kid Tiki was _such_ a traitorous crybaby, it took me three tries before I could successfully clear the frog out of my throat. “And I’ve never met a Rhea.”

Kid Tiki’s possible relatives aside, _my_ relatives were in a galaxy far, far away – and completely out of my reach. And I honestly have never had the pleasure of meeting anyone by the name of Rhea in my life, so…

Technically, I spoke no lie.

“See?” Balthus sighed in relief. “It’s probably just a coincidence that she and Rhea share some similarities. I mean, that happens, right? The world’s a big place.”

Yuri didn’t look convinced. In fact, he kind of looked like he was in pain – like this whole situation was starting to give him a migraine.

“This is absolutely unacceptable.” Constance finally recovered from her shock enough to firmly interject. She stomped right up to me and started eyeing me up and down with a scowl.

I frowned. I know she was supposed to be a noble, and they tended to run the gamut from Mercedes all the way up to entitled prick, but was she seriously-?

“You should be _ashamed_ of yourself, Balthus. Positively _mortified_.” Constance shook her head, her glare turning on the big guy holding me up. “To stand here and make conversation with that, _that_ -,”

My frown deepened and I started giving the blond before me the stink-eye, but she was still focused on Balto.

Finish that sentence. 

I _dare_ you. 

You don’t know it yet, but you are _definitely_ within biting distance - and this munchkin is both cranky _and_ takes no quarter.

“Hey, whoa- What?” Balthus edged backwards and made sure that he was holding me up between him and the irate blond. “What’d I do now?”

Thanks a _bunch_ , Balto. _Real_ chivalrous of you.

“That poor unfortunate child in such a wretched state!” Constance continued as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

Wait. 

What?

“The amount of dirt and- Is that dried blood I spy?!” Constance’s voice rose up in a screech as she glanced at the side of my head with wide eyes. 

“I- Well, I mean,” Balthus all but stammered as the shorter blond began verbally laying into him. “I did say I rescued her from bandits, right? Pretty sure I mentioned that.”

“And her hair!” Constance moaned as she eyed Kid Tiki’s tangled and matted mess of green in visible despair. “Oh, _her hair_.”

I…

I really wasn’t expecting… any of that.

I feel… kind of bad that I jumped to conclusions back there.

Like, really bad.

I’m suddenly really happy that I didn’t actually bite her, because then I would have felt _horrible_.

“The cloak kind of covered it up,” Hapi pointed out bluntly. “But she looks pretty small, doesn’t she?”

“I can only _begin_ to imagine when the last time she ate anything of substance was,” Constance glared at Balthus accusingly.

“I gave her what was left of my supplies on the way here!” Balthus tried to say in his defense, but it didn’t look like Constance was going to give him any slack.

My stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly.

Constance’s glare deepened, and even Hapi’s brow rose as she pinned Balto with an unimpressed stare.

Yuri, survivalist that he was, wisely decided not to put himself in the crosshairs of an irate woman, and instead chose to stay silent. His expression was still pinched, though, so maybe he really did have a developing migraine?

If that was the case, then I felt for the guy. Migraines sucked.

“Give her to me.” Constance demanded abruptly with a sniff as she visibly attempted to cool her ire with a series of deep inhales and exhales, before holding out her arms. “She requires a bath, a change of attire, and a hot meal.”

My arms instantly shot out, my fingers twitching in that way that kids do when demanding to be picked up.

I take back every mean thing I did and didn’t think about her.

Screw Balto - _Constance_ was my new favorite Wolf.

**+0+0+0+**

So, I was completely gung-ho for a bath - which is kind of odd for me to say because I normally prefer showers. But when you’ve got muck on top of muck in places that muck should never be? Preferences don’t matter all that much when there’s a steaming pool of gloriously _hot_ and _clean_ water calling your name.

What I didn’t realize, but in hindsight probably should have, was that Constance meant to actually _help_ me bathe.

When the large wooden tub – well, large to me anyways - was set up in the middle of her and Hapi’s room, she busied herself with going through the selection of colorful bottles they had on one of their shelves.

And told me to strip.

Well, actually she used more flowery words, like telling me to disrobe and leave the rags I was wearing on the floor to be set on fire later. 

But still.

I mean, yeah, I may be in Kid Tiki’s body – which meant that technically this meat-suit both isn’t mine and is in the shape of a small child – but that wasn’t the point. 

The point was that _I_ was still an adult. 

So, yeah. I was feeling pretty awkward at the thought.

It hadn’t occurred to me that her having grown up a noble meant that she was probably used to others helping her out with personal things like bathing and dressing. I mean, nobles did that right? Had servants and aides to help them with mundane things that normal people just did themselves?

Personally, I haven’t needed or wanted help to bathe since that one time a few years back when I ran out of the shower while screeching to my grandma that I squirted shampoo in my eye and was dying. And even then, I only needed help to stick my head upside down in a bowl of water so I could wash my eye out - so I don’t think it counts.

I’m an introvert. With anxiety. Who doesn’t normally like being around other humans. 

And I’m _Canadian_.

Being nude around strangers and letting them help me bathe really, _really_ didn’t make my bucket list of top one-thousand things I wanted to do before I die. It was actually one of the reasons why I dreaded getting old and _needing_ said help – I’ve worked at a care home before and was not in any sort of hurry to experience that sort of help from the other side.

I tried to put up a fight – honestly, I did. I tried to convince Constance that I could take care of myself, that I didn’t need any help and that she could wait outside the room and I’d be totally fine. I tried to tell her that I’ve been washing myself for _years_ , and that I wouldn’t accidentally drown in what amounted to a big bucket. 

I whined and complained, and at one point I think I even hissed at her like a puffed-up cat.

But Constance was very, _very_ insistent.

And I was very, _very_ filthy.

In the end I finally caved, the mantra of _‘it’s not my body, it’s Kid Tiki’s_ ’ playing like a broken record in my mind.

It was weird, and I felt totally awkward - but at least it wasn’t like a public bath, so only Kid Tiki was naked. Thank god for small mercies, right? Taking a bath with your eyes closed seems like it’d be pretty hard.

Still, it was only around the third time the tub was emptied and refilled with clean water that I was finally able to relax enough to actually _enjoy_ being clean.

And, well, I’m not going to lie - despite my reservations, it was oddly nice to have someone else fight the battle against Kid Tiki’s hair. Even with Constance’s, uh, _zeal_ for getting me as clean as possible, she was very gentle when it came to thoroughly washing the tangled mess of green I’d been lugging around on my head. I was actually able to lean my arms and chin against the side of the tub and just space out while she washed my hair, the steaming water scented with lavender doing an excellent job of lulling me into a state of relaxation.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve been that relaxed, but it was definitely sometime before waking up tied to a tree in a camp of smelly bandits.

I probably drifted off for a while there, because it felt like no time at all had passed before a hand was lightly shaking my shoulder and a voice was telling me that it was time to get out of the cool water.

I blinked sleepily and pushed back from the edge of the tub so I that could stand up. Yawning, I stretched before raising my arms up so that Constance could lift me out.

Don’t judge – Kid Tiki was too short to climb out herself without making a mess, and I was not going to spend my time mopping up dirty bath water when I could be doing something else.

Like sleeping. 

Those bunkbeds looked _way_ more comfortable than the dirt at the base of my old tree, and sleeping on Balto’s back was like sleeping while clinging to a rock.

I absently sniffed the air as Constance set me down on the floor, and my eyes immediately fixated on the bowl of what looked like steaming stew sitting on the desk.

Or eating. 

Eating was good too.

I’d be down for eating just about anything at the moment.

My stomach rumbled, an enthusiastic agreement if I ever did hear one.

I was half-way to the bowl of food before a hand landed on my shoulder again, stopping me in my tracks.

I’m not going to lie, I let out a pathetic whimper as I turned to look up at Constance, my eyes wide and desperate. I didn’t _care_ if the stew wasn’t mine – I _wanted_ it.

“Hold just a moment,” Constance said as she fetched a bundle of cloth from the bed.

I squirmed in impatience as she quickly dried me off with a large grey towel, my eyes locked on the steaming food.

Actual honest to god warm food. 

I was salivating.

My staring was cut off abruptly as a white cloth was pulled over my head. I struggled slightly to get my arms up and through the right holes but was eventually successful, the bottom of the too-large shirt settling mid-shin. I let Constance struggle to pull Kid Tiki’s copious amounts of hair out.

“There,” Constance huffed in success as she managed to free the last of the green hair. “Now, while you eat, I shall do my utmost to rid your beautiful hair of these horrid knots.”

That was all the invitation I needed, and in the blink of an eye I was scrambling up the chair and staring down into the most beautiful thing I had seen all day- hell, it was the most beautiful thing I’d seen all _week_.

Hot, _unspoiled_ , food.

And it was all _mine_.

I didn’t bother picking up the spoon.

**+0+0+0+**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely satisfied with how this turned out, but if I didn't post it now it'd be about another week or two before I was able to...
> 
> Next chapter will have Tika settling in to Abyss - maybe exploring a little, maybe getting to know the Wolves a little better.


End file.
